


Homemade

by courageous_boss



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: 5+1 Things, Christmas Cookies, Gen, Ric Grayson is featured towards the end, no hate for my bald emo kid please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courageous_boss/pseuds/courageous_boss
Summary: Five times Dick made gingerbread cookies for his family (and one time they made them for him)
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 158
Collections: 12 Days of Fluffcember (2019 special)





	1. Chapter 1

Dick's always been a sneaky kid. He knows because his daddy always told him so. Dick would just be minding his own business, walking around, and his daddy would shout out, “Dickie! I didn’t see you there! Such a little sneaky boy!”

He’d grab Dick into his arms and tickle him until he was red and giggly. Dick didn’t ever try to be sneaky, but if this was his reward, he didn’t mind.

It’s not like that at the Manor. Bruce _always_ knows where he is. It’s creepy. Dick tries once to hide in the drawer under the sink and Bruce still found him. How? Dick still can't figure it out.

So, when a few months living in the Manor passes and Christmas is almost there, Dick begins to panic.

He doesn’t have any money and Alfred refuses to let him do chores for change. Even if Dick could have gotten some money, it wouldn’t matter. Bruce is the richest man ever and Dick can't think of a single thing Bruce could want that he couldn’t buy himself.

It’s a bit depressing and Dick cries about it a little. He tries to hide it – only feeling his sadness in the middle of the night when he’s supposed to be sleeping. But this is Wayne Manor and Dick is the least sneaky person here.

“Master Dick,” Alfred says gravely when he catches Dick pouting in the library.

Dick's heart speeds up and he’s frightened even though he knows he has nothing to be afraid of. He gets like this a lot recently. Especially since he came back from living with the Chester’s. Dick knows Bruce and Alfred like him, but he doesn’t know what he’d do if he ever upset them enough for them to send him back there.

“Alfie,” Dick says sheepishly, offering up his shiniest smile.

Alfred hums. He’s silent for a few moments, just long enough for Dick to calm down a little. He realizes that Alfred doesn’t seem upset or angry or worries with is _good_.

Then, “Is something the matter, Master Dick. I’ve noticed you’ve been rather down recently.”

Dick likes talking with Alfred because Alfred is the only adult he knows that talks just like Owl from the Winnie the Pooh books. It makes Dick feel smart. It also makes Dick feel safe because Owl always helped solve problems so surely Alfred must too.

So, Dick tells him, “I don’t have a present for Bruce. For Christmas.”

Alfred considers him seriously for a bit and says, “Why don’t you make something?”

Dick thinks and thinks and thinks and then shoots off with a gleeful whoop, “I’ll make him cookies!”

He arrives in the kitchen and then runs back to Alfred, huffing and puffing to ask, “Um, do you know how to make cookies?”

He’s embarrassed, but only a little, because Alfred laughs so much that he clutches his stomach. He helps Dick make gingerbread cookies (because it’s Christmas and apparently a tradition). Dick's never had gingerbread cookies before, but they smell amazing and they taste delicious. With Alfred’s help, he decorates them, even going as far to put one in a fancy business suit with a briefcase. Just like Bruce.

Dick only has to wait a day until Christmas but that day feels like forever when he thinks about the special cookies. Christmas morning, Dick goes knocking on Bruce's door, calling him eagerly for his present. Bruce comes out, still his soft, red pyjamas and rubbing at his eyes until Alfred scolds him.

Dick herds him into the kitchen and gets him into a seat before he lays his cookies out. He puts on his special, beaming smile and waits.

Bruce blinks. Stares at the cookies. Blinks. Stares at Dick.

Then, he starts to laugh so hard he cries.

He picks up the Bruce cookie very gently, “Is this me, chum?”

Dick nods, “Yes, do you like it?”

Bruce isn’t laughing anymore but his eyes are still wet when he says, “Yes, I love it,” voice soft like a whisper.

Dick squirms about shyly until Bruce pulls him into his lap. They eat the cookies for breakfast and Alfred doesn’t even wave his finger at them. Dick thinks then, that maybe these gingerbread cookies may have something magical about them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason aged 12, Dick aged 15

Dick doesn’t know anyone like Jason.

Jason is always angry. He screams at Dick over every little thing and throws punches. He’d even body slammed Dick once. Dick feels like he’s walking on eggshells every time he’s around Jason which sucks. Because the manor used to be _safe_.

Jason is also sad. Sad and hurt and Dick doesn’t know what to do with this. For all his training with Bruce, Dick had never been taught how to treat a hurt kid _after_ they’re rescued.

Punching bad guys, Dick's your guy. Talking his new brother out of a panic attack, not so much.

Still, he does understand that the Manor is big and echoing and lonely. Alfred does his best and he’s wonderful but one old man isn’t enough sometimes. Not when you just want your dad.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick plants an easy, calm smile on his face, announcing his presence long before he enters the room.

Jason turns away from the window, nose still red where it had been pressed against the cold glass.

He frowns like Dick's the most annoying person in the universe. Which is just plain rude. Dick gives him a pass, though.

“What you up too?” Dick asks innocently, honest-to-god interested and genuine.

Jason rolls his eyes, “Reading, dumbass. Can't you tell?”

Now that Dick studies the scene, he sees that Jason is holding a novel that’s thicker than his head. There’s a stack of books on the floor that look like they’ve already been read. Jason is curled up on the bay window seat, legs covered with one of Alfred’s quilts and nestled comfortably on some cushions. Dick gets a short pang of yearning to curl up beside him, but he fights it down before the grumpy boy can pick up on it.

He chuckles out, “I guess. Silly me,” and waits for Jason’s frown to fade.

(His frown never seems to fade when Dick's around.)

“What do you want?” Jason snaps suddenly.

His body language screams aggression and Dick forces his feet not to flee.

“I guess I thought we could hang out. You know, now that school’s on break,” Dick says.

Jason doesn’t seem to share his sentiment, though.

He turns up his nose and says, “I’m busy.”

He sticks his face back into his book and ignores Dick.

Jason’s trying out homeschooling a bit, so he probably doesn’t understand how rare and precious long days of nothing are. Alfred had said that Jason’s got a lot of catching up to do before he can integrate into public school, but Dick knows that he wouldn’t push Jason too much.

Dick, on the other hand, feels like he’s drowning between his AP classes and Mathletes. He loves school but sometimes getting Bruce to say _good job, chum_ feels impossible no matter how well he does in his exams. There’s also Robin which takes up so much time and energy that Dick doesn’t really have many waking hours where he’s free to laze around with his new brother.

It isn’t really what he’d had in mind, but Dick shrugs, grabs a book out of Jason’s ‘read’ pile and settles in on the couch. Jason spares a second to glare at him before he returns to his book. Dick does the same, flipping over to cover to discover that this particular book is written in Old English.

Dick suppresses and full-body shudder and hunkers down to read. He makes it halfway through the first chapter before he curls up against the armrest and falls asleep. When he awakens, Jason is gone, and the books have been put away – even the one he’d tried to read. Great.

Feel rested and ready to _do something_ , Dick starts wandering around the Manor, looking for company. He finds Alfred in the kitchen, a white kitchen apron tied around his waist.

As Dick enters, the older man offers him a kind, gentle smile and says, “How about we make some gingerbread cookies, Master Dick?”

Dick feels a sudden swell of emotion. He likes Jason. He wants to spend with his new brother. But being around Jason _hurts_. The boy is so mean and angry all the time. Dick understands that Jason’s actions are the result of trauma, but that understanding doesn’t negate how horrible Dick feels after Jason speaks to him. It’s worse when Bruce sees how Jason treats him and doesn’t step in.

Fortunately for Dick, Alfred is much smarter about emotions.

Dick nods, grabbing his own apron of the rack and moving to stand at Alfred’s side. Together, they work to create a batch of gingerbread cookies, talking and laughing. Be the end, the cookies are left on a rack to cool and Dick feels a part of himself ease. He tries to tell Alfred as much, but the words get stuck in his throat.

Alfred just shakes his head, a warm, loving glow in his eyes. He gathers the boy into a hug and takes a moment to appreciate the feeling of the child’s presence.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Dick packages two sets of gingerbread cookies. He takes extra care to make each package personalized.

Bruce's one is easy to deliver. The man knows to expect it and even manages to choke out, “Thanks, chum,” and wraps Dick up in a hug.

Jason’s a bit more difficult. When Jason goes into the shower, Dick sneaks them onto his bedside table. He doesn’t hear a word about them the next morning, neither from Bruce nor Jason, both of whom avoid eye contact shyly until Dick gets them talking about something else.

They’re both so stunted emotionally that Dick can’t help but be amused. It doesn’t stop him from making another batch the next year. And the year after, and the year after.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason’s death is hard for everyone. The boy was rude and spiky, but his heart bled for everyone he cared about. Now that he’s been taken from them, they all feel a horrible aching.

Bruce shuts most everyone out. Even the few friends he’d made in the JLA, he pushes away. He lashes out at Dick constantly and only maintains a stable relationship with Alfred because the older man strikes the fear of God into his charges.

Dick wants so badly to run to the other side of the planet. He wants to hide from this sad, broken version of the man he thinks of as his father. He hates walking past Jason’s empty bedroom. He can hardly bear the new wrinkles and grey hairs that begin showing up on Alfred.

He doesn't think he can make it through Christmas in this dark, gloomy Manor. 

His team helps him organize everything. They make plans to spend the holidays together at their base. Wally even gets them a tree and the evening they spend decorating it is one of the rare times Dick feels happy. He makes up his mind to leave the Manor, even if it feels like running away.

But Dick is a weak man. And Alfred is a cunning one.

A week before Christmas (and two days before Dick's planning to leave), the old man corners him in the library, apron in one hand and a whisk in the other.

Dick feels some sort of red-hot, stifling emotion crawling through his chest. It burns and aches but it’s _something_ – which is more than Dick's been feeling for a long while. He dutifully follows Alfred to the kitchen, routine keeping his nerves at bay. He doesn’t feel the urge to _bolt_ anymore. He tries to say as much, but when he tries, the words get stuck.

Alfred turns gentle, knowing eyes on him and passes the icing, “I know. It’s okay. Let’s just decorate the cookies.”

Dick gives his full attention to the decorating process, icing one in a full, detailed Batman suit and setting it in the pile for Bruce.

Afterwards, Dick calls Titans and cancels their plans, powering through a chorus of, “Are you sure?” and “If you think it’s best.” and “Good luck.”

He spends the two days before Christmas with Alfred, helping set up decorations and cleaning any surface Alfred sets him to. It’s easy to pretend he’s a child again and his huge pile of worries that had seemed so suffocating melts away.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, he sneaks into Bruce's room, his parcel of cookies in his hands. Bruce is already dressed for bed, sitting on top of the blankets as he reads something on his tablet.

“Merry Christmas, B,” Dick injects faux cheer into his voice.

It’s hard to talk to Bruce, recently. Bruce is all cold, hard words and whenever Dick looks at him, he remembers crying over his brother’s grave, so long buried that the grass had already cropped back up.

Bruce grunts, shoulders curling down, eyes glued to his tablet screen.

“They came out really good this year,” Dick tries again, yearning for Bruce's eyes to turn on him.

He wants Bruce's soft, glowing eyes and whispered _thanks, chum_. He wants his dad.

Bruce does nothing, just grunts and says, “Not really hungry.”

The words hit like ice.

Dick takes the dismissal for what it is, turning on his heels and taking his cookies with him. He doesn’t have it in him to face Alfred and the walls feel suffocating. He escapes into the backyard, forgoing a coat or proper shoes.

He means to stand in the middle of the yard and just fucking scream. Instead, he finds a little kid sprawled out in the snow.

“Um, hey,” Dick announces his presence, not getting to close.

The kid, a little boy with a small frame, no older than ten, rolls over to stare at him. “Hi.”

Dick feels out of his element. Discretely, he pinches his wrist. When he confirms that he’s definitely not dreaming, he blinks down at the child again.

“Who are you?” he asks, hoping he isn’t threatening. Then, a sudden thought, “How’d you get into the yard?”

Their security system is top-notch. There’s no way this little kid could have gotten through their defences without triggering an alarm.

The boy shrugs, smiling mischievously, “I’m Tim. Tim Drake. I live next door.”

The easy way Tim smiles puts Dick on edge.

“Hey, should you be at home? It’s dark out,” Dick asks.

Tim shrugs again, still smiling a small, gentle smile, “My parents aren’t home. They won’t know.”

“Oh.”

Tim’s gaze drops then, eying Dick's cookies, “Hey, are those gingerbread?”

Dick's confused for a second and then anger ebbs back into his chest. There’s some grief that accompanies it which makes Dick's heart ache.

He swallows all his feeling down and sits down beside Tim. The cold snow seeps through his pyjamas immediately.

“You can have them,” Dick offers the parcel to Tim.

Tim hesitates for a second before eager little fingers grab at the cookies. His eyes light in humour and delight when he spots the Batman one.

“Take it,” Dick hands it to him, “that one’s special.”

Tim shoots him a cryptic look, eyes young but knowing, “I’m sure it is.”


	4. Chapter 4

Christmas this year is far busier than ever before. With Jason back and Tim choosing to spend it with them instead of his new team, the Manor is full of loud, booming voices. Dick loves it.

Even more, Bruce has recently adopted a daughter, Cassandra. Dick's heart bleeds for her the same way he bleeds for all of his family. Yet, it’s different with his sister. She’s so fierce and elegant that every movement she makes has Dick on pause. He lives in constant amazement as she slowly adjusts to her new life. 

Cassandra is coiled tightly always. Her movements trained and perfected, she holds herself constantly like a weapon. Brandished and ready, challenging, _attack me, I dare you_.

Dick doesn’t pretend that he doesn’t fear the girl. He’s seen what she’s capable of. More, though, he fears for her. She’s too young to have suffered so much. She knows little of comfort and warmth.

With Christmas approaching, Dick only wants to see her relax a little.

She’s curled on the couch in the sitting room, positioned to see all who enter immediately. Her posture is practised and when she spots him, Dick sees her mechanically adjust to appear calm and welcoming.

Dick approaches slowly, staying a little bit away from her and taking care that he didn’t appear as an obstacle. Keeping his body language open and relaxed, he offered her a small smile.

Cassandra is quickly learning ASL, but she’d already had a few signs of her own that she prefers. A few of them are more complex than ASL or Signed English, based on ideas and feelings rather than a physical reality, but Dick prefers Cass’s signs. They’re almost like a dance, movements meant to be decoded. The more Dick learns about her, the more each sign makes sense. It’s like a puzzle and Dick loves it.

“Cass. Hello.” He signs, using her signs.

She watches him for a few movements before her lips turn up softly. She signs back. “Brother. Hello.”

Dick grins. He loves when she names him ‘brother’. She has names for each of them and changes them quite a lot, especially for him. He’d asked once, why, and she’d said that she didn’t like signing Dick. Which. Understandable. 

“Help. Kitchen. Me.” Dick continues using her signs.

Cass moves her eyebrows to look confused and points to her chest.

Dick pouts his lip and whines, “Please,” while he also signs.

She considers him for a few moments before she nods and stands to follow him. She hangs a few steps behind him, footfalls quiet and nifty.

Alfred is already in the kitchen.

He smiles when he sees them, hands moving to form Cassandra’s signs as he says, “Hello children.”

Cassandra waves and smiles back softly, but Dick doesn’t miss how her shoulders grow a little tense and her eyes seek out exit points. He hates seeing these instinctual reactions in her, full of fear and fleeting.

Careful not to touch her or invade her personal space, Dick gets her set up with a bowl and some mixers. Alfred guides them all through the steps and slowly, Cassandra begins to relax. It’s small progress, but when she eyes Dick's neglected whisk, hesitates and then swindles it into her own pile, he turns away to hide his grin.

It’s Christmas and Dick has long since learned the value of tradition. So, he picks out his best cookies and begins decorating them personally. He decorates for Bruce, Jason and Tim, wrist aching pleasantly by the time he’s finished. It feels good to have such a pile and he contemplates decorating a few for his Titans.

Cassandra, who has been waiting very patiently for Alfred to deem enough time has passed for her to have another cookie, shoots curious looks at Dick's cookies but doesn’t ask. He doesn’t call her out or push her to interact. Instead, he nabs one last cookie from the ‘good’ pile and sets to work.

He decides on a simple ballerina, posed gracefully but sturdy. It seems fitting, though Dick can't give a specific reason why. When he’s finished, he deems this the best one yet and sets it in a plate.

“Merry Christmas,” Dick says, hands forming ASL this time.

Cassandra’s eyes are wide, face slack in a rare moment of shock. She points to her chest questioningly.

“Cookies. Family,” Dick uses her signs again.

With careful hands, she takes the cookie, skilled fingers cradling it like precious jewels. Her eyes shift for a few moments and when she finally meets Dick's gaze, she looks spooked.

With one hand, she signs, “Thank you,” and then scurries out of the room, the cookie still in her hands.

All in all, Dick calls the mission a success.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i do not consent to my work being hosted on any unofficial apps, particularly ones with ad revenue and subscription services


End file.
